


Precious Thief

by Alejis



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-09 23:41:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alejis/pseuds/Alejis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agron and Nasir work in the same office, but they don't get along. Everytime Agron looks at him, Nasir frowns. Agron starts losing things at work and he suspects Nasir, Agron decides to sneak in Nasir's room to search for his stuff and he gets the surprise of a lifetime. (Porn and more porn ahead, you've been warned)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Agron loses things. Not just big things, like brothers and friends (he's had a hard life), but the usual pens and pocket items, too, like most people do.

A packet of M&M's here, a handkerchief, and it wouldn't be anything unusual, nothing at all to worry about, except he also loses things he tries to keep a closer eye on: a costly pair of gloves, books he means to finish, and even, last month, his glasses. He still hasn't got used to the contact lenses, and it bothers him that they could have just disappeared the way they did, while he was resting his eyes for a few minutes in the office kitchen. "Honestly, Agron," Mira lectures, "You shouldn't sleep in the office kitchen. Someone probably took them as a prank." Agron sighs and secretly wonders if it isn't Ashur the office bully. Maybe he's using Agron's things in some sinister voodoo thing. Spartacus says voodoo dolls are rubbish, but it's small comfort. He very secretly wonders if he's not going mad all by himself, because he knows he's not _that_ careless. They've had an especially harsh winter this year, and the blanket of snow that transfigured their office building into a towering, misshapen cake has been slow to melt away under the sun. Finally, the sun dawns warm and close.

Agron's called to join a game of basketball with a boisterous and confused tangle of nearby office workers, and he's laughing when he sheds his jacket halfway through the match, tossing it in the benches of the basketball court. When the sun slips away again, the night chill is felt keenly on sweat-dampened skin, and the game is called. Agron is looking ahead to a mug of warm coffee when he reaches for his jacket, lying right where he left it, and his scarf, which is not. And he remembers—looking up from dropping his jacket and catching Nasir's gaze on him, skulking in the trees; the prat hadn't jumped back or looked guiltily away like a decent person would, just stared with his mischievows brown eyes — and he knows "it was Nasir"

They all live in a apartment building 2 blocks away from the office, it's the company's custom to provide rooming to their employees.

He sneaks into Nasir's room, the room is much like the one afforded him and the others, save for the expected change in colour scheme: some bookshelves, a desk and straight-backed chair in one corner, a more comfortable pair of chairs flanking a small table, and an imposing Queen size bed. Agron's never thought of anyone's bed as particularly decadent, but Nasir's, with its deep feather mattress and gem-toned coverlet, somehow gives that impression. He stares at it for a few moments before realising what he's doing. He's wasting time.

He searches quickly—Nasir's oddly tidy —and is down to a trunk at the foot of the bed, locked shut with a chunky padlock, when he hears voices from the hallway. Dinner had started when Agron slipped away, but he'd hoped for more time and he curses his luck, wedging himself inside the closet in front of the bed. He's not overly concerned; it's early yet, and he doesn't expect Nasir to linger alone in his room for long—the entertainment common room would be filling with everyone now, playing games or chatting in companionable groups. It is something of a surprise, then, when Nasir closes the door and closes the lock. It registers as strange, that Nasir values solitude over possessions, since he doesn't bother to lock his room—filled with things of obvious quality, beautiful things that had tempted Agron to linger, and run his fingers across them— until he is inside it.

Agron, who grew up with nothing to call his own, adds this to his mental list of all-things-Nasir-he-will-never-understand-thank-God. Nasir tosses his wallet and cell onto the table next to the bed and stands before the dressing mirror next to that. "Poncy prick" thinks Agron, as he watches Nasir tease loose strands of black hair off his smiling face. And a night on Nasir's cold closet looks more likely as the one in the room begins working the dozens of tiny buttons adorning his shirt . Agron follows their movements as each little nub is pushed through stitched fabric, revealing the shadowed hollow of his throat first, then a wider V of flesh as he works his way down. A flash of blue shows at Nasir's throat and Agron first thinks it's part of the shirt, but a few more buttons and a glimpse of wool reveals **it is his scarf** , worn under the fitted shirt, flat against Nasir's skin.

Something lurches sickeningly in the depths of Agron's guts; all that flesh seems wrong, and he can't stop looking as more is exposed. Nasir tosses his garment aside, leaving the scarf dangling from his neck as he strips off his pants and boxers, all the while inspecting his reflection with satisfaction. Shocked reaction aside, Agron has to admit that this man's body is nicely shaped, in its way, all curves and sharp angles that he is committing to memory—only because he's never seen Nasir this way, never even imagined him so unguarded. He traces the contours of Nasir's calves, up tan legs to the shadows between, over the dimpled swell of arse, and up a narrow, curvy back to shoulders as sharp as glass.

Taking an end in each hand, Nasir pulls Agron's scarf between widely stretched arms, as if he was on display. Nasir's cock is half-hard, Agron notices with a jolt of surprise, lifting from a thatch of black curls. He's seen his dorm mates in more blatant states of arousal over the years (common showers suck!), but ... well, not over **_him_** , and it's pretty clear now that Agron is in some way integral part to Nasir's arousal, barring the possibility of a seriously weird wool fetish.

This revelation is unexpected, and wholly unwanted. "So nasty," Agron thinks, as Nasir crawls onto the bed, arranging himself on his back in the centre, his wide-spread legs providing Agron quite an intimate view of that shadowed place between. He drags his gaze up to Nasir's face. Nasir inspects the fringe of the blue scarf with an odd expression, and tickles his nose while he slowly trails the length of his cock with the other end. After a few minutes of sniffing and teasing himself, he pauses, wraps his left arm with the scarf, takes his hardening flesh awkwardly in that hand, and begins to stroke himself.


	2. Chapter 2

Agron twitches inside his pants as it registers exactly what's going to happen: Nasir is going to come for him!

His brain is sluggish from so much exposed skin. He … he doesn't _want_ to watch, but it's live action porn, come on! and Nasir is strangely cute, if not actually beautiful, as so many girls (and perhaps a few men) in the office seem to think. Agron wonders what Nasir dreams of in that bed at night. . A bunch of lusty possibilities suggest themselves to his mind: Nasir, on his knees, his mouth on Agron’s dick as it thrusts down his throat; lying face down, that lush bum on invitation as he fights for breath in that decadent bedding. He's shocked by the perversity of it, shocked such images come so easily to his mind. "Nasty," he reminds himself, while other images appear, _memories:_  

Nasir watching him, constantly; throwing him frowning looks that make Agron's blood boil and his hands clench into fists. Nasir grabbing him from behind those times he joins the basketball games , his flushed and excited face no longer set in a frown. It is another shock, his sudden understanding, and he feels rather foolish for being so slow in this kind of things. Does Nasir do it on purpose? he wonders; taunting him to make Agron notice him? and yet another image appears, uninvited, in his mind's eye: Nasir, looking relaxed and sleepy-eyed, tied with the scarf to Agron's own bed in his room.

But better than all these possibilities is Nasir writhing on that luxurious velvet, chewing his bottom lip while he teases his nipples to peaks with fingers, making them looks like the most delicious chocolate chips, tangled in his blue scarf. His eyes are closed, those incredibly long lashes fluttering as he starts to pant a little. His cock is standing up, long and slender between his fingers. He pulls the foreskin over the head, slicking himself with pre-come, before pressing and rubbing his fingers into the soft skin at the base of his cock, and behind his balls. Urgently, he takes the shaft in hand and starts pulling it again. Agron's grip on the closet door is so tight it hurts, and it reminds him not to touch himself, not yet; he can't be trusted not to cry out, he has grown so achingly hard.

And Nasir. Fck! Fcking fck ! he’s making him hot all over. With a frustrated sound, Nasir switches hands, pumping a faster, more even rhythm on his dick. He puts his feet firmly on the bed, left hand now slipping lower, not to rub his balls as Agron expects, but to finger his own arse. His head is thrown back, Adam's apple bobbing as he gasps and swallows and groans; he doesn't hear Agron's soft moan. He strokes himself roughly, hips lifting off the bed, back arched as he works a dry finger deeper inside his arse.

He'll come soon, Agron thinks. Soon, God please, he has to. He'll fall asleep and Agron can get the hell out of here and have (he pushes the heel of his hand down the trapped length of swollen flesh in his pants, biting back a groan) he'll have **the wank of a fcking lifetime** “Oh, Fck me, fck me, fck me ..." Nasir gasps and moans, pearly strings of come splashing chest and belly as he twitches through his orgasm. Agron desperately envies the relaxing of his wound-tight body into the bedding, and Nasir's lips curl into a soft smile, one unlike he's ever seen him wear before, as he sighs, "Agron" Agron flinches, rocking the closet door, and he and Nasir collectively hold their breaths, Nasir’s entire being straining against the silence of the room.

Before Agron, with his pounding, panicked heart, can react, Nasir jumps from the bed and opens de closet. Denial and stark horror reveal themselves before his face twists into murderous rage. Nasir is shaking with rage and humiliation. To prevent start crying, he calms himself and screeches "WHAT THE FCK ARE YOU DOING, AGRON”

“I could ask you the same thing, Nasir," Agron laughs a little breathlessly. “You're trespassing! Spying on me! I'll have you fired!" - "Me?! You're a fcking thief, Nasir! I just came to get my things." With cruel mirth, Agron adds, "I had no idea you'd put on such a show."

Nasir's caramel complexion goes an even crimson, sweeping up from his spent groin and disappearing into now wildly tangled hair before he starts screaming again. Agron is sure all in the building will soon be called down on him (something he would rather avoid) he hisses “Shutup shhh for fcks sake.” Nasir scrambles across the bed, the door his obvious, ultimate goal "Oh, no you don't!" Agron intercepts him, uncertain what he means to do with him once they are nose to nose at the side of the bed. Angry, light brown eyes narrow, flashing enough resentment to strike him dead, but Agron notices below their surface a glimmer of pain, a spark of fear, and he knows he's responsible for both. He feels a brief moment of compassion, allowing his own expression to soften. Nasir is trembling visibly, and he jumps when Agron's questioning fingers brush his hip.

Nasir's flesh is satin under his fingertips, he takes Nasir's narrow hips between his hands. The wool of his scarf, still twisted around his left arm, feels rough against the back of his hand, but its presence gives him a thrill. "You want me, Nasir?" Agron whispers in his ear, feeling the wave of gooseflesh the question inspires under his palms. Nasir smells of sweat and sex and it makes Agron feel aroused; he holds tight when Nasir tries to pull away. Taking an arse cheek in one hand, he squeezes, running the other up the valley of Nasir's rigid spine and back down to the fleshy swell of buttock. He's got an armful of Nasir and can't help but pull him tighter, closer. Nasir's eyes widen in surprise at the feel of his arousal, and with fingers teasing into the moist crack of Nasir's arse, Agron practically groans, "Fck, I want you."

And that’s all it takes; Nasir leans into him, his body almost languid, but for the almost-violent shudders that run through him every few seconds. When Agron tastes his skin, just below the shell of his ear, he tips his head to the side and his arms snake around Agron's sides in silent surrender. Agron's heart trips a little. "Why are you such a prat, Nasir?" The softly voiced question makes Nasir stiffen, his pride bruised, and Agron coaxes him back with a hand twined in his soft black hair. He takes Nasir's willing mouth with his own. Slick and wet, their tongues curl and tangle together. Agron feasts on Nasir's mouth, sweetest thing he's ever tasted, until Nasir is panting silently, his warm breath mingling with his. He pushes away and they both attack the buttons of his shirt with shaking hands. As they pull each other down onto the bed, bare skin against bare skin, Agron mashes their mouths together.

Taking Nasir's cock in hand, he quickly brings him to full hardness, despite his fumbling touch. Nasir rubs against him like a cat in heat, ducking his head to lick Agron's tiny hard nipples with his kitten's tongue, and Agron's increasingly ragged breath, and the uneven slapping of his hand on Nasir's cock, is the only sound in the room. "Oh, fuck,Nasir, fuck ..." He's desperate to get off, his balls tight and aching, but he can't coordinate jacking them both, and his frustration is apparent to Nasir, who looks up from under long lashes, lips curling wickedly as they rasp across his sensitized nipples. When Nasir twists underneath him, seemingly turning away, it's Agron who might cry.

Then Nasir is on his knees, throwing that same ‘come hither’ smile over his shoulder, and Agron whimpers (an awful unmanly sound). "Lube ..." he manages to say, and Nasir stretches for the nightstand, he pulls a tube from the drawer. Lube drips down the insides of Nasir's thighs as Agron inexpertly applies it, slipping coated fingers into the tight (so fking tight) sheath of his body. Nasir still hasn't spoken, but he's making needy noises (and Agron's are less embarrassing in full context). He guides his cock to the slick, puckered hole and pushes it inside, Nasir's body yielding. Agron doesn't want to hurt him (that is another surprise in this night full of them) but the shallow, gentle thrusts he allows himself are rather mind blowing. More so when Nasir's rocking hips force a faster pace. Fcking himself on his cock, he growls, "Fck, Agron, move!” And he does, his body answering Nasir's, hips snapping, faster ... faster ... until it seems he's flying and when they cannot fly any higher, decide to fall to earth. They collapse tangled together, breathless and gasping.

Agron loses things, you see, and tonight, he thinks, he may have lost something irreplaceable.

He’s lost his heart to this Precious Thief.


End file.
